


The Man Who Danced on Glass

by DrMorbius



Category: Adam Driver fandom
Genre: Child Murder, Devil worship, F/M, Horror, Implied Necrophilia, Other, Rape, Serial Murder, The plague, clerical sex scandals, embezzlement, religious deviancy, theclergy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:47:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26797582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrMorbius/pseuds/DrMorbius
Summary: Epistolary Style Fan FictionThe year is 1976 and John, an amateur archaeologist has found a sealed metal chest behind a wall cavity in the Archdeaconry he is pulling down.He takes the chest home and finds letters, a wrapped wooden carving, and a large leather-bound diary, belonging to Dr Francisco Garupe, inside.So he reads them, to himself, in his kitchen, and unravels the sordid, dirty history of Father Garupe and his maid, Jane Lee.
Relationships: Father Francisco Garupe/ original character, Francisco Garupe/You
Comments: 35
Kudos: 13





	1. PART ONE: JANE LEE

February 1976, 

The 16th Century Archdeaconry, on Marlborough Road, Wraxall, was condemned by the council as being 'Unsafe for Human Habitation'. The paperwork was rushed through, a new block of council flats approved, and the contractor ready to start work.

Then the breakers were called in.

John, a local man with the wrecking ball, liked to think of himself as a bit of an amateur archeologist. He'd been hunting the premises for little odds and ends, always in the hope of finding a hidden Turner or Van Gogh masterpiece. These old houses always held surprises, old shoes and bottles of urine with nails in them would be hidden behind the brickwork, to ward off witches, sometimes you would find a dead cat, mummified up a chimney.

They were supposed to bring good luck.

The night of February 13th, sitting in the kitchen of his pokey council flat, teenage daughter playing Bowie in her bedroom, would be a very long one.

He sorted through the packets of letters and a large, black, leatherbound diary he'd found in a locked metal trunk, boarded up, behind the wood paneling of the Archdeacon's study.

The wood was covered in weeping fungus, dry and brittle, it caved as soon as John touched it, splintering and drawing blood from the palm of his hand. Ignoring the injury, he removed the trunk and hid it in the cab of his JCB till shift end. Scratching the wound, the splinter inside tickled and stung.

He'd had worse.

When he got home he found the trunk also contained a wrapped figurine in green velvet, which now stood, unwrapped, and watching him from the kitchen sink.

He opened the smaller bundle of dirty letters first. The addresses varied, it seemed they had been returned from the recipients at some point. That was odd, maybe the answer lay in the correspondance?

Initials and a date were scratched on the top of the trunk.

FG 1795

  
  


**_LETTER ONE_ **

_ AUGUST 1793 _

Dear Kate,

I am writing this to you as I'm am told I need to practise my spellin and wordin. The Mistress has given me a book to read and lots of paper and I is improvin.

I am please to find a position as there are no families which were glad to take me in as Maid, since I is not from round this way, I am lucky to find anythin, but here I am safe.

Kindest

Jane Lee

**_LETTER TWO_ **

_ AUGUST 1793 _

Dear Kate,

I hope that you is well, a fever is on the town. Some of the Father's parishoners has caught it. He goes to visit, take them vittles and speaks the good book to them, it must be very comfortable for the families.

I hear that they gets very poorly at the end and spit up blood. I have to wash The Father's clothes very well. They are always covered in blood and bile, he is brave. His sister has been takin to Bath for the waters.

I hope you and Jack go well on the farm, I have not heard anything from home since I has bin here. 

Kindest

Jane Lee

**_LETTER THREE_ **

_ OCTOBER 1793 _

Dear Kate,

I has been poorly, so I am sorry you is not gettin this for so long. Miss Maria said she would ask her brother to post it. She has been very kind, let me sleep in her bed when my fever was bad. Now I have had some of the Father's medicine I feel better.

My old trouble plays on my mind, I see wet hands and I taste metal in my mouth, when I wake I am shivering. 

The Father is helping me, he talks of places he's visited, people he's met on his travelin. He's very well versed in the psalms, tells me I must read them at the Cathedral to the Archdeacon when I is better.

It will help me with my guilt.

Kindest

Jane Lee

**_LETTER FOUR_ **

NOVEMBER 1793

Dear Kate,

Thank you for your letter, I is very happy you is expectin a child of your own, in sad times it is good to see people going about their bisniss as normal. I am pleased you told me after what you know of me, I wish only the best for you and your husband.

It is very odd your town has not had so many deaths, but it is a good thing, you are in the country, no foul air to spred the fever.

I thought I might lose my position here, and I am now better, although weak, I need to build up my strength and she has bin givin me some of her own medicine.

I read a psalm in the Cathedral. It was very quiet, very cold. The candles were lit and the Father looked as if he were about to climb to heaven when I spoke. The Mistress thought the same, she told me how beautiful I read.

The Father he is very young and handsome. He is very tall, he dwarfs all of Wraxall, he gets stared at wherever he goes. I wish the people here would not stare at me too, I feel it very bad that when I go out on errands for The Father they look at me and make bad faces.

I have not told anyone, I promise.

I think he is a lonely man too. He feels the cold on dark nights and is sad when he tells me of the death he sees daily in the city among the rich and the poor.

He is always visiting the sick, he is very kind.

I do not deserve his friendship after what I has done.

Kindest 

Jane Lee

**_LETTER FIVE_ **

**_December 1793_ **

Dear Kate,

Seasons Greetings to you and Jack, and my bestest wishes for the new year.

I thought of you when I was in church today, I was moved to cry when I heard the choir sing. I am not as well as I would like to be, I must build up my strength, the medicines which The Mistress gave me did not help, so when she presses them I take them and throw them away. It is sinful to waste them, but they made me feel sick.

The Mistress, I fear, in her fits and nightmares makes such terrible noises, shouts and screams. I sit with her nightly and hold her hand when she is very bad, I serve my penance at her side for my wicked life.

The Father thanks me for my help, and has asked me to help him in his study, I will try my best even if my learnin is bad.

...

I meant to post this last week, I was called to my duties. 

The Father asked for my help with some papers, he is trying to help the Archdeacon with somethin very important, I stood by his desk, they both looked very serious and The Father was upset that they were in such a mess.

He likes everything tidy, and I hope I am able to aid him, I always do his study first, clean the ashes, the candle holders are always full, he works into the early hours, I hear him sometimes writing his diary.

He lets me pray with him sometimes, and I am glad, sometimes I get very sleepy, I worry that he may think I am too tired to help him. I could not keep my eyes open as I read with him last night. 

I do not want to lose this position, it has taken me a long time to find, I must try to stay awake, I do not want to disappoint The Father.

Kindest

Jane Lee

**_LETTER SIX_ **

JANUARY 1794

Dear Kate,

All has gone wrong, the house is all upset. 

Doctor Pulgrave is dead. My friend Agnes Bunch who chars for him, found him at the bottom of the stairs. She is all upset and in a terrible state of nerves. 

I fetched the Father, and he came and made all the bisness, I was pleased to be of help to him. He comforted Mrs Bunch down, the funeral was very windy, the trees rustled and it howled around the graves.

I was scared, but I saw the Father look at me and smile, I was unafraid then, he is kind.

...

I had to stop writing I was called to the door. The man from The Palace is here to speak to The Father, and has been asked to take ArchDeacon Pulgrave's job in the Cathedral. 

I think he was expecting it, he is very happy and honored.

Dr Pulgrave was 84 years old. I did not like him, but he was kind to the children at Christmas. He gave them little candles that The Father had made.

I wrapped them in little green ribbons and put them in green cloth bags. We read the psalms together as we finished the work. He has a nice voice, mellow and kind.

I think he will make a very good Archdeacon, but what with all the funerals lately I have not seen him much. The fever among the children has been very bad.

I had another dream last night, I saw a face in the water. Am I damned to remember this every night of my life? I cannot sleep, perhaps this is why I am so drowsy in this study.

I must try to learn and to forget.

Yours

Jane Lee

==========

"Dad - oi DAD!"

John lifted his head from the letters, licked his fingers and picked up another one.

"WHAT?"

"Can I go round Jeanette's?"

"Get lost then"

A bang of the front door - then peace.

==========

**_LETTER SEVEN_ **

FEBRUARY 1794

Dear Kate,

We are all moved to the ArchDeaconry. The old archdeacon wasn't a tidy man was he? I've had no end to clean.

Archdeacon Garupe, as he is now called, gave all the money we made from selling Dr Pulgrave's clothes and personal belongings to the poor. They have been so affected by the fever that Dr Garupe (as I am now to address him) has gone to give them some kindness.

He took his medicines, his great liberality is noted amongst the parish, they come from Spain he tells me. Reading the good book does no end of good to the poor souls who have to be buried in the new large unmarked grave on the edge of town.

I have lots of new responsibilities (Dr Garupe helped me with that word). My wages have been gone up and I have a day off every two weeks.

Dr Garupe's sister is at Bath again, she is not a well lady and the air here is very damp, not good for her chest.

I hope to see you next week, I have his permission to visit you both, but I must be careful, please do not tell anyone I am on my way to you.

Kindest

Jane Lee.

==========

John was hungry, lifting a stale loaf from the bread bin, cut himself a slice, added the leftover cheese and spooned a generous helping of Branston Pickle on top.

A dollop landed on letter Eight, he licked it clean and began to read, chewing slowly.

Rubbing unconsciously at his swollen palm.

==========

**_LETTER EIGHT_ **

APRIL 1794

Dear Kate, 

You looked very well, Jack is very happy.

Dr Garupe was pleased to see me return, he says that I write much better. I sit by his side in the study to write to you now the nights are drawing out and read lines from his own bible.

It's a very old bible and the cover is smooth, like skin, and I don't recon all the words, but he sounds them out for me in his voice, low and calm so we don't disturb his poorly sister.

I am always very calm and warm after we finish my readings.

He locks the door sometimes so we is undisturbed.

Yours

Jane Lee

**_LETTER NINE_ **

MAY 1794

Dear Jack,

I am so sorry for Kate.

Please send her my best, I am also sending a candle which Dr Garupe says to light in her room to help her baby's soul reach heaven and be with my own.

Yours in kindness

Jane Lee

**_LETTER TEN_ **

MAY 1794

Dear Jack,

I have the permission to come for Kate's funeral, shall be there Thursday but will not attend the service. I am not welcome in your town.

Yours

Jane Lee

==========

Grabbing a half drunk bottle of whiskey, John undid the cap and poured himself a generous measure.

==========

**_LETTER ELEVEN_ **

JUNE 1794

Dear Mrs Bunch,

I am very pleased you is feeling more like your old self with your sister. Fine weather and lots of sea air are good for the soul Dr Garupe says.

He is reading scripture to me and we walk out into the gardens. After I come in from our walks I am always thoughtful, he speaks of his childhood in Tasco, how his parents died in the mines and was given into the care of the church in Lisbon.

It is a sad heart he speaks with, heavy with responsibility and I want to help him. My own father left us 12 years ago in February. His hands were rough from the carving and he always smelt of burning wood.

Dr Garupe has been teaching me his language, I don't understand the words and how I speak is very bad, but it pleases him that I try.

I have my 'little perch' by his side and I read from his bible. He explains the stories to me very carefully. He gives me a warm drink and reads to me when I feel sleepy, he reads so nicely after my hard day working.

I was worried I may lose my place as I fell asleep again, but I woke up in my bed, warm and comforted. I would like him to comfort you too, it is very good to read the scriptures.

It is balm for the soul Dr Garupe says. 

I need his forgiveness very much.

Yours

Jane

==========

John was beginning to feel warm and comforted too!

==========

**_LETTER TWELVE_ **

JUNE 1794 - 

Dearest Agnes,

The days are long and I am glad of the light, my work is very tiring and easier. I hope that you are feeling better.

Dr Garupe was only called to three poorly households this week and only two people were laid to rest. I shall pray for their souls and that of my child.

I have a beau, his name is Thomas and he and I are walking out together. He has a job as stable hand up at the palace and hopes to see an improvement in his work soon.

Kindest

Jane Lee

**_LETTER THIRTEEN_ **

JULY 1794

Dearest Agnes,

Thank you for the bunch of lavender, it has made my room smell much nicer than it did. I am sending you a candle from Dr Garupe, he says it will comfort you while you get over the consumption.

You don't mind if I tell you, but we found a lot of papers hidden in Dr Pulgrave's bedroom, it hasn't been used since he passed on. They were about the almshouses, did you know Archdeacon Pulgrave hadn't collected any of the rents on them?

The Mistress says they are past collecting, but Dr Garupe will persuade the tenants to pay, or they will be asked to leave. It is a shame, my man lives in one.

Everyone around me seems to be ill. I get very lonely sometimes, and the scriptures are a rearassurin thing, and my mind plays nasty tricks. But I have had no dreams of late and my heart is lighter.

Dr Garupe says walking and fresh air helps to calm the soul. It was very sunny and warm, I did not need my coat and walked in the sunshine with my best dress on. I felt very important as people around us staired.

I must tell you a very clever story Dr Garupe (he says I may call him Francisco if I like) read to me about a man who gambled with his soul.

The rich powerful Lord was crossed in love, his young beau had run away with a stable boy. So he promised his soul to The Devil one night when he was very low, in exchange for killing the stable boy he would serve Satan and call him Master. It was a very wicked wish and I thought the lady had a very narrow escape. 

But he was tricked, the lady drank poison, she killed her child and The Devil took the Lord's soul as payment. It was a nasty end for the Lord and he was made to dance in his room for all eternity on a floor made of broken up glass, like that in the Cathedral windows, his feet all bloody and torn

It was a wicked story, Francisco told me how it is easy to believe that your soul is yours to gift, and that you must trust in your god above all things. That earthly pleasures are nothing to compare to the light of Our Lord.

Francisco is good, he always explains moral things for me, says I am a kind soul, and he would be upset if I ever left him.

He cried tears of joy when I told him I would stay with him forever and used his christian name.

But she killed her babe, she drowned it. 

I can hear rushing water in my ears, and I see the body floating in the mill fleam, covered in dead grass.

God have mercy on me.

Yours

Jane.

**_LETTER FOURTEEN_ **

AUGUST 1794

My Dearest Agnes,

I am so glad that your sister is able to read my letters to you since you is under the weather again.

I was asked to clean in the Cathedral. Dr Garupe says God hates untidy things, God hates mess and ugliness.

Dr Garupe isn't ugly or messy, always tidy and clean, he is very handsome and looks very important in his robes of office.

He sits on the Episcopal throne and sings the psalms with the choir, he looks like an angel. Dark hair, beard, whiskers and kind eyes, he commands the souls of the parishioners and he sings them all to heaven.

I wish I could stand and sing with him, he rests his large hands on the sides of the throne and sings. I feel it in my heart, it's warm an comforting in these terrible times.

His sister is very poorly now, the physic had a bad face when he came out of her room. I am very sorry for Dr Garupe.

He cried when I read the scripture on forgiveness, I comforted him as best I could and only did what was proper. 

I miss my lover's arms, my man is not as forthright but he does hold my hand.

Yours

Jane Lee

**_LETTER FIFTEEN_ **

AUGUST 1794

Dear Agnes,

Dr Garupe has lost his sister.

I am so sorry to be bringing you bad news, it is so sad, The Mistress was young still and pretty, but always very sick. Dr Garupe says I am kind in showing concern, but that her death was a blessing and her suffering is now at an end.

He is so handsome in his funeral garb.

It's the deepest shade of green, like grass after rain, like the grass at the side of the fleet, where the mill wheel turned.

...

My beau has stopped courting me, I am very upset I have done nothing to shame him, I have not spoken of my past life, only to you, but he has gone.

Kindest

Jane Lee

**_LETTER SIXTEEN_ **

OCTOBER 1794

Dear Agnes,

You tell me your sister is singing in your local church, what better way to show devotion to Our Lord. 

I have had a shock, my Beau is missing from his work, Francisco went to the farm to inquire after him but no word have we had to his whereabouts. I am very worried.

I fell asleep in his study again, a habit which Fransisco has forgiven, he tells me he raises me and takes me to my room.

Would you ask your sister if she sings a psalm with the line  _ "set though an ungodly man to be a ruler over him) and let satan stand at his right hand." _

I must ask because as the choir sang it last week I am sure that Dr Garupe looked very unwell, he sat back on the throne and went pale as dough.

I do hope he is not coming down with a fever. I have not been called to read with him since and I miss my instruction very much.

I am feeling lighter hearted though, I hardly remember my dreams.

Yours

Jane Lee

==========

John looked at the clock on the oven.

8.46pm

That was fine, his daughter wouldn't stay out too late, if she found him asleep at the kitchen table that was hardly unusual.

A half drunk bottle of whiskey at his side.

==========

**_LETTER SEVENTEEN_ **

DECEMBER 1794

Dear Agnes,

I must speak, I have no one to turn to.

I was called to Dr Garupe's study last night, it wasn't unusual, he stays up very late writing sermons and in his diary, so I wasn't afraid. But he looked so frightened, as a child would when a dog barks and snarls at its heels. He would not stop walking around his study and looking over his shoulder.

He said he was well, but that was suffering from nerves and would I sit with him through the night. I am sure it was asked in friendship, I've known a man. But when Dr Garupe asked me to sit with him I was afraid.

He looked angrily at me when I refused, he wept such tears, I was moved to touch him. I shouldn't have done and I will answer for it, he is my friend and protector of my soul, I touched him and he stopped crying. I held his hand, knelt at his feet and I kissed him.

God help me I kissed him, I meant to sooth, but he returned my kiss, his lips were so soft, and they tasted like wine. He took me in his arms, led me to the couch and I lay with him. I am in love with my employer and I am afraid.

Help, advise me, shall I leave and find another position? 

He held me so close and looked into my soul, I think he sees my sin, my guilt. I am undone, and I will burn in hell for what I've done.

I scrubbed the carpet in the study very well, no one will know. But what do I do my dearest Agnes?

Yours affectionately

Jane Lee

==========

"Well these are warming up, the sly bastard!"

John read between the lines.

"Dr Garupe you sly dirty cleric, you've been drugging her, then fucking her all this time. Now she gives herself to you and to hell with the consequences eh, lucky bastard!"

A last drain of the tumbler and he poured another glass. The lightheadedness was familiar and welcome.

He ought to have read between the lines a little deeper, his palm was weeping yellow and itching terribly. He rubbed it against his jeans, twanging the splinter further into the flesh.

==========

**_LETTER EIGHTEEN_ **

JANUARY 1795

Dear Agnes,

I must hide this as best I can, I have not been welcomed by the parish, I have not been spoken to by any of them since I arrived in Wraxall.

I hate this city, I hate what I have become and I do not want to repeat the past. But I have no choice, my time is running out. I lay with Francisco again last night and felt safe, felt so loved, with his warm strong caring arms around me, I have missed such embraces, I have done without for so long. 

I left him sleeping deeply, his soft firm flesh crying out for caresses from my lips, 

I am undone.

Yours

Jane Lee

**_LETTER NINETEEN_ **

FEBRUARY 1795

Dear Mrs Agnes Bunch,

It is with the greatest regret that I am to inform you that your friend and correspondent Jane Lee has now been missing for several weeks.

All the parish have been in search of her, all search in the surrounding woods and outlying villages has been carried out and I have made it my personal responsibility to have all the ponds, ditches and lakes dredged to try and find a clue to her whereabouts.

As you were frequently mentioned by her I thought it best to write to you personally on this matter. I understand she confided in you several times and I must impress upon you how disturbed I and the parish are at her sudden disappearance.

I will inform you of any developments.

Yours Hbl Svt

The Venerable Francisco Garupe D.D, 

Archdeacon of Wraxall, 

Rector of Worth Valley and Hartington Nether Quarter.

==========

  
  



	2. PART TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Diary of Father F Garupe - Part One

John finished the rest of the loaf and cheese, wrapped the letters back up in their green silk ribbon and proceeded to the large leatherbound diary lying in the bottom of the metal box.

He stuck his tongue out at the wooden figure standing on the kitchen worktop. Wiping away the crumbs with the back of his swollen hand, he began to feel thirsty.

A glug of water in his whiskey and he opened the diary at random.

==========

**_August 23rd 1793_ **

Maria's health deteriorates. She has in her boredom taken to teaching the new maid her letters.

Foolish to waste such learning on the poor, she came at half wages. I did not approve her employment with us, but she will be no burden on my purse at least.

She is unseen, unheard, with a history,  any trouble  and she will be ejected from my house with no guilt attached to myself for my actions.

**_August 25th 1793_ **

Maria felt a little better today, she did not take her medicines and I heard the two of them laughing in her room. 

I see a book has been taken from my shelf, I shall speak to the maid, if she comes at half wages due to leaving her last employment abruptly, I may have stumbled upon the reason.

I should dig deeper into her, no one comes at half wages and likes it.

**_September 1st 1793_ **

Maria returned from Bath today. All her allowance was used and I must now draw on other resources to maintain this house.

The book was not stolen as I thought at first, Maria leant it to the maid in my name, told the ignorant girl that she needed to practice her letters if she was to improve herself.

I do not care for the illiterate thousands who make my city look so untidy, dirty and pestilent.

I am called to read them their rights and dispatch them to you Lord, daily.

**_September 4th 1793_ **

I sent another soul to you today, she felt no pain, only a little discomfort as I read the last rights, her husband was thankful for the blessing, she had been a sinner all her life.

I feel as if I have freed her soul from the chains of her marriage. 

She was soft around me before she died, I felt your presence and rejoiced, my robes were covered in her dying essence and I felt at peace.

The generosity of her husband means I will be able to keep the bailiff from our door a little longer.

The great numbers of fever victims grows and grows, I may not find the time to write as often as I would like, I find this outlet for my hopes and fears most reassuring to me. I must be firm in my resolve.

**_October 7th 1793_ **

Maria enrages me, with her foolish pet. Allowing her to sleep in her own bed while she recovered from the sickness which has overtaken our city.

She gave her some of her own medicine, I have reprimanded her severely for this. 

**_October 8th 1793_ **

I called the maid to my study last night.

Should I have craved this miracle?

Jane, her name is Jane. I apologised to Maria abjectly, I should not have doubted her judgement in this. 

All my body was at one, as lightning hit my bones, she revived my wishes.

I am now inviolable.

**_October 9th 1793_ **

I asked if she would like me to take over her schooling, the girl almost wept at my feet. I found myself talking to her about my life. I am going to encourage her to read the psalms, it will distract me from the many new deaths I must read the rights to every day.

My services are in high demand, Dr Pulgrave will not go to them when they ask, instead they prefer my simple ministrations, and it has proved efficacious. I now have enough to pay the Physician's bill which was pressing.

**_October 15th 1793-_ **

Jane came to me again tonight to read.

Her kind, calming voice sends cold shivers and I find myself drawn by her simple faith. She sits next to me, closer to me, I encourage her over the more difficult words, she peers into the book as if the words will disappear by magic.

**_October 25th 1793-_ **

Many of my nights are now spent with Jane, she finishes her work around our humble home and takes up her book like a penitent soul. I caught her sitting in the kitchen one evening after my ringing for service was ignored.

She looked up from her book with a light in her eye which I found disarming in its beauty.

**_November 1st 1793 -_ **

Pulgrave pressed me to visit a parishioner called John Atkinson Grimshaw, a most important person and very affluent. He and his household were in need of my medicines which I find are running low.

I ministrated to the servants first, one of which died before I had finished, the others were penitent in the presence of their Father, and I left them in a more comforted state.

The Master and Mistress Grimshaw had been abandoned, their closet reeked of piss, as I remember the smell of death well, I was not ashamed to walk into that room and face it. The wife begged for deliverance, her husband choking back on his vomit as I aided her in sending him to His God.

She wept for joy, I stood at her right hand as she prayed her last, kissed the velvet of my bible, took me in her mouth as she was raised to heaven and prayed at my feet.

She was not as beautiful as Jane.

**_November 10th 1793 -_ **

The entire Grimshaw family now reside under marble. The funeral rights were given by Dr Pulgrave who slurred most distastefully through. He smells of age and shit, a most distasteful man.

It will be a Glory when he is sent to his own grave. He looked with an eye most desirous when Jane gave her first psalm reading that evening.

I felt at peace, I felt lifted in her hands, as all odour and taste of death was taken from me, I must be firm, and not give in to temptation.

Yet she stirs my soul.

**_November 15th 1793_ **

An odd thing, which I am reluctant to admit or think of but I must put down so it may take its true proportion. I was by the chancel, speaking to the organist over the next day's program when I felt a tap on my arm. I turned to find nothing there. The stupid man made no notice of my enquiry, I have no patience for his futile, childish immature gripes. The man has been here for too long, new blood is needed, his ridiculous faith is based on selfishness and greed.

I have enough for one last sentence. I am off to deliver it now.

Who is watching me?

**_November 16th 1793 -_ **

I have been charged to find a new organist, the choice will be an easy one, Dr Pulgrave is unwell and unable to make the choice himself. 

He relies on me more and more.

**_December 2nd 1793_ **

I caught Jane cleaning in my study, she was behind her time and apologised profusely, almost throwing herself at my feet. I calmed her and asked if she would like to help with the candles for the children. What a simpleton, a sad soul, clutching at a small life. She warms my soul though, I think of her often as I lie in my cold bed.

Alone - I'm almost always alone, but now I feel her eyes on me, she's simple in her faith as a child.

She will not leave me, as the other is doing in the room next to mine.

**_December 12th 1793_ **

An odd thing, I was singing in the Cathedral, the maid she sits in the second stall among the common folk. She fills me with her light and I feel as if I'm made of glass.

Maria is a burden to me and my purse. I should not have encouraged her to try and find the light of our god, she suffers daily now I am witholding her tonic, and the more I and Jane pray for her soul, the further away I feel her become.

The maid interests me deeply, she seems to clutch with a child's desperation at any kind comment I drop, as if I were her Lord and protector.

She asisists me in my studies so diligently, she assists me in my dreams too.

I must remember to send off for more medicines from Seville tomorrow.

**_December 17th 1793_ **

I am unwell, an inflamed condition of the brain, I am no longer affected with my desire to assist my parishioners, this is of no matter, I have diversion enough to relieve my boredom.

Pulgrave is such a fool, I feel his ineffectivness will bankrupt the Cathedral, there are several discrepancies in the Archdeaconry papers. He could alight on no word of mine, or document due in the business for me to take to the Palace when I called upon him today.

The dues upon Parwich and Aldwark have not been collected for 12 years, two chancels are past repair, and several people deputized by him have proved as ineffectual as himself.

His ineptitude is a gross insult to God. He infects the people with the disease of apathy, it will be stamped out.

**_December 18th 1793 -_ **

I shall have order in his chaos!

The order to Seville is on its way, I should have the means to act very soon I am decided in this.

I think of Jane oftener and oftener, her sweet face and demeanor, as if heaven had blessed her with goodness, she attracts me as moth to flame.

I have offered my soul to another, will he gift it back so I may lay it at her feet? 

I must call the Sortes and find out for myself.

**_December 19th 1793_ **

My call was answered;

_ Luke xiii. 7,  _ The babe did drown in its innocent mothers hands.

_ Job xxxix. 29 _ , His manhood shall be undone, ground into the dirt

_ Isaiah xiii. 27,  _ Her young poison the earth, bringing a curse upon her homeland.

This means little. I shall try my own bible, and Jane will help me, I have enough left for one more, maybe two nights.

I shan't hurt the haunter of my dreams, she will be my guiding light out of the darkness. She looks so pretty when she stands and prays to her lord and saviour.

I can no longer resist.

**_December 22nd 1793_ **

The night I called the Sortes she stood beside me, her eyes downcast as I opened the book. I felt the benefit of My Lord's grace.

_ John xixx. 3,  _ Stand at my right hand and ask forgiveness.

I felt my soul leave my body, I laid her on the couch and leaned the book in my hands at her side, she was so sleepy, I gave her too much again, I need to be more careful.

_ Mark xii. 30,  _ From her mouth and hands shall come your deliverance.

This was the sign I needed, she is the one that was meant for me, he spoke that I would be sent a devotee, I never thought it would take on so fair a form. 

The third call she made as I undressed and stood by her side, I placed myself in her hand and she laid my engorged member on the last entry, fast asleep in her dreams.

_ Judas xxxix. 14.  _ And the vessel shall walk in innocence, bearing the gift, bringing to term the glory of our lord.

I am honoured to be the deliverer of the fruit.

**_January 20th 1794,_ **

She ran to me, I felt so powerful. 

She ran to me in such distress it was difficult for me to retain my composure. Her friend was lying in a dead faint at the feet of my predecessor. The Physician said he had tripped and broken his neck, I could have laughed at his stupidity.

Jane is my charm, my sibyl, my angel and I will express my devotion to her, prostrate myself at her feet. 

And from her hands she delivered peace to the parish. Children are chaos, they are untidy, now they lie under the earth to light little candles of their own.

My god hates untidiness, chaos is a sign of disobedience.

**_January 31st 1794,_ **

He is to be honoured by the Diocese and the Palace means to petition for a sainthood.

I could cry with frustration, they try to saint an old, sadistic pederast who kept a mistress in the almshouses for years, and sired her many bastards. Yes make him a saint, he will be welcomed to hell with the other sinners to be ripped apart in the pit.

I am to be sat on the Episcopal Throne at last. I should have dealt with his filth years ago.

Why did I delay?

I was waiting for her, and she sits now at my side as I write my life, she sits reading the scriptures in a voice simple and naive. Her voice trips over the longer words, I am there to help her describe the wanton women of Gomoroh, the sensual men of Sodom. She reads in Spanish with no sense of the context.

She looks at me with a child's inquisitiveness and I can't help the stirring in my loins. I have enough left for one more night with her. I will press her with warm milk and honeyed bread. She will lap at my fingers and thank me for it.

She is my golden black angel and I am her servant. She tastes like salt and roasting vegetables, the smell of her is musty and warm, limp body I lifted reverently to the couch and I opened her undergarments.

She was wet and hairy, I lifted my eyes and I saw hers were fluttering behind her lids. She knows I do this, she writhes under my tongue, sticky and wet. She has known a man, I can read the signs.

A gift from my god, a woman with experience, a past, and a future at my side.

I must keep her fresh and happy. I must keep her healthy and safe, she was red and raw when I came out of her, dripping onto the couch. Her legs upon my shoulders, I gifted myself a kiss at her lips to sooth.

She moaned my name and I was in ecstasy, better than any sermon or heavenly blessing are the noises she made for me as I kissed her with my hungry mouth.

She would wake warm and comfortable.

And as I laid her in her bed she smiled at me, my heart bursting with love, I was engorged and satisfied. I served my master well last night.

==========

"Fuck me Garupe, you don't hold back, this is like reading fuckin Dennis Wheatley!"

John sat back in the chair, scraping it on the linoleum, he'd finished his supper and was now drooling over the diary. He stamped his leg to put down the semi he was sporting under the kitchen table and turned the green tinted page.

Yet something niggled at the back of his mind.

The deaths in Dr Garupe's parish, how many died of fever, and how many died at The Father's hand? 

==========

**_February 2nd 1794_ **

I am installed, the Archdeaconry has been gifted to me, but what a scene of confusion I entered. It may take some time to reduce the innumerable errors with which I am confronted and then all will be ready, I find my days have become much busier.

The fever is still prevalent but the number of deaths recorded has diminished, I take my medicines and minister to the sick when I am able.

Jane... I miss Jane, where is my packet from Seville?

**_February 5th 1794 -_ **

Maria is gone to Bath - the house is empty.

I need to be calm!

I must not give in however sorely I am tempted. 

She kneels and scrubs out the fireplace, her bottom moving from side to side. I retired to another room as Jane completed her work. Does she know she is doing this, does she know she stirs me so forcibly?

Am I being tested again? 

She has known a man and I can't help but be drawn in by her. I will work harder at my calling, I shall go over the account books again till my packet from Seville arrives.

I must be firm in this. I have sacrificed too much to lose it all now by acting rashly.

Jane, come to me of your own will, I yearn for your eyes to rest on my naked flesh and feast. I desire your caresses, fingers rough with toil, hair smokey and greasy with fat from the kitchen.

Come to me of your free will and share in My Master's gift.

I beg at your feet, let me take you in my mouth and kiss the flesh which is to deliver the fruit of my Master to the world. Let us both take pleasure in serving him faithfully and rejoice in each other's arms.

**_February 16th 1794 -_ **

At evening prayers I had the same experience I recollect from last year, the choir was singing the 109th Psalm - ' _ and let Satan stand on his right hand, and when sentence is given upon him, let him be condemned' _

I was sensible of a sharp pain in my left hand as it rested on the arm of the throne, I had not thought to take a great interest in the fabric of the Cathedral, but as The Verger took me on a tour later that evening, I became greatly interested in the carvings upon my stall.

15th possibly 16th century, a figure in oak sourced from the trees over at Holywood, still on the property of the Dean and Chapter. I thought at first it was a figure in Friar's Grey, its mantle long and a knotted cord around its thin waist, but upon closer inspection it appeared to be carrying a halter, the deep recess of its robe hid a most ghastly countenance, rent flesh on desperately thin cheekbones, sunken eyes.

The King of Terrors

I am to be taken to the place tomorrow where the carving in the stalls was done. Archbishop Middleton also intends to pay me a visit, I imagine to check on my progress.

**_February 17th 1794 -_ **

The officious man, only interested in the funds I have been so diligently amassing from the tenants, one of which Jane had been courting.

Foolish boy, does he not understand what forces he is defying in his ill advised courtship?

The Verger showed me Holywood, it is now mostly stubbed up, hollows dug by tree roots. His superstitious leanings spoke of how people in the area would hang small offerings, ribbons, charms for good luck in love or commerce, from the branches of the oak from which my stall was carved.

Within living memory it was referred to as 'The Hanging Oak'

The man who did the carving died a year before I arrived in Wraxall, John Beeley, who I learn rejoiced in the nickname 'Beeley of Two Fathers" 

I find I shrink from the dark hours.

I thank you for sending me Jane.

I will be brave for her.

==========

John had pulled up his chair, put down the diary and took a deep breath, he stared at the wood carving standing on the kitchen worktop.

A Friar of Orders Grey.

And Beeley was his surname! 

He took it in shaking hands, turned it over and stared into its face. It didn't have one, just a void under the cowl, the halter was still there, and the hands which clutched it were partially hidden in the draperies. 

They were talons.

"Well I'll be... Jenni, is that you?"

A sound in the hallway, he leant back and looked into the darkness. The silence totally unbroken. Yet filled with the noise of coming and going, of rustling fabric.

John put it down to rats under the floorboards and rubbed his temples with cold fingers.

"What are you?"

He said out loud to the empty flat, expecting no answer he took a mouthful of whiskey and furrowed his brow, threw down the sculpture as if the thing burnt his hand.

"You're a murderer Dr - you're a raping serial killer."

He returned to the diary, flicked through the green stained pages, closed his eyes and let his fingers open it at random.

Calling his own Sortes.

==========

**_April 12th 1794 -_ **

Jane has returned to me, her friend, she informs me is expecting a child. 

**More chaos.**

Jane sits at my side in the growing evening light, reads to me as I drift into contemplation. Her voice is melodious, better than any woman I have met, her skin is smooth and bright, eyes eager to learn.

I mistakenly allowed her to choose a book to read to me last night, I confess maybe the choice was a fortuitous one. Her hand brushed the cover as a lover would her man's cheek. I watched her pull it from the shelf and lay it on my desk, over my papers.

Her caresses sensual, her eyes thrilled me with their childish fervour.

We sat and read my personal bible, gifted to me when I took my final orders, it's stained and world weary as I, yet, as I sounded the Spanish out for Jane, I felt her hand on mine.

I locked the door this time, with Maria above us I daren't attempt my habits of before without taking precautions.

**_April 27th 1794 -_ **

I gave her a parcel to send to her friend who I hear has been unwell. Another soul to send to you My Lord.

**_May 5th 1794 -_ **

I have given her permission to attend the funeral, now all she has is the Bunch woman who I detest. Thine will be done.

**_May 15th 1794 -_ **

I must admit this before I go mad, that I hear voices. Indistinct and angry voices. I believe it may be an incipient decay of the brain. I have no family history of this condition, I feel air and exercise will be beneficial. 

I may take Jane with me if she would honor me with her company.

**_May 17th 1794 -_ **

She tells me her local friend is now living at the coast. I am powerless, my reach is only so far. I must tread carefully.

What do the voices want? 

When I sleep, I see Jane, she stands over me holding something in her hand, she sits on top of me, pulls my hair through her fingers and speaks the psalms close in my ear. I wake, sticky and wet, nightly pollutions are nothing new to me, she lives in my dreams as a lover. 

I feel no guilt, I want for her company again so desperately, Maria is above me, I must not give in to temptation.

**_May 19th 1794 -_ **

Jane took too much, I sat and plied her with the antidote, felt her revive so limp in my arms. I spoke in Spanish and felt the warmth of life return. Awake so trusting, innocent, appreciative.

I made too much noise, I couldn't help myself. I took her back to her room but I am sure I was overheard.

**_May 25th 1794 -_ **

I have been lucky, it will not happen again, Maria has retired again to Bath.

**_June 10th 1794 -_ **

Jane, I find, is a calming influence as my voices continue to plague me. In the warm spring air I feel carried and although these simple fools around us stare, I feel no shame.

I wish to hold her hand in the sunlight and shout out her name so you may hear how I worship her. You sent her to me and I am keeping her safe. Is this love, am I to be the centre of the chaos of that foolish emotional attachment?

**_June 25th 1794 -_ **

The nights are warmer, the dreadful fever which has stricken so many in the city is now abated, people go about their business as before. I see little of Jane, the work at the Cathedral takes up most of my day, the errors of my predecessor are now unravelling.

The Palace are no longer petitioning for his sainthood. After I submitted the papers to them last month. I received the letter (enclosed) yesterday informing me of their withdrawal and I agree entirely.

==========

John searched in the metal chest for the letter, then frustrated that it may be lost, he found it tucked away in the back pocket of the diary.

The empty bottle of whiskey on the table, he stood to put the kettle on for coffee with an odd taste in his mouth.

The statue was standing upright, watching him.

==========

Dear Dr Francisco Garupe,  _ June 12th 1794 _

It is with great regret to inform you that we are no longer petitioning for a Sainthood for your predecessor Dr Elton Pultney. 

Your work in the Cathedral is, without question, admirable, the energy which you have given in the pursuit of your duties is to be credited, and shall be so.

Dr Pulgrave was in the position for many years and we feel some memorial to him is expected, despite rumours of his dereliction of duty and questionable behaviour, which, we trust, to your discretion, will not be made known to the parish.

Recompense for the loss to Miss R Brassington and her successors is to be made, and a monthly stipend of £40, we feel, is sufficient, on the understanding that she moves away from the parish forthwith.

If we may leave the organisation of this in your capable hands?

Yours Faithfully

==========

Surprise surprise, the clergy covering up a sex scandal!

John smelt the instant coffee and thought he'd poured hot water on gravy browning instead. A glug of milk, he sat back at the table and replaced the letter.

The milk must have been off, it tasted bitter.

Leaving it at his elbow to cool he looked at the clock.

23.42

His fingers were full of pins and needles.

==========

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. PART THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final months of Diary entries during Dr Garupe's residence at Wraxall.

John didn't have any other liquor in the flat. The off licences were shut, even if he could have made it out to one. 

He leant against the worktop, feeling a pain begin in his stomach, sat heavily on the chair and carried on reading.

==========

**_July 26th 1794 -_ **

Jane's beau is a fortunate man. But I will not have my routine disrupted. I shall speak to his employer in due course.

**_July 29th 1794-_ **

I found the rents on Longcliffe Lane are uncollected, as in the case of Parwich, I shall see to it that they are settled and any tenants who defer, will be evicted.

Maria tells me that I am wasting my time.

I shall have no more chaos, I will have no more distractions. 

**Jane is mine, was sent to me.**

I WILL BE FIRM ON THIS!

**_July 31st 1794 -_ **

I read Jane The Lesson of 'The Man Who Danced on Glass' last night. 

He was a native of Gothenburg in the Netherlands, a powerful prominent man of his city. He fell in love and asked a local girl to marry him, she agreed and the date was set much, to the satisfaction of her family.

She was with child by him.

It came to pass that whilst courting, she had met with one of his stablehands in secret, a youth of 20 summers, strong, virile and kind, totally opposite to his master. Of course she fell deep in love and ran away with him to evade her fiance.

The couple were caught trying to cross to Germany and brought back, where the boy was held in prison and the woman returned to her family where she was delivered of a baby boy.

The fiance did not know if the child was his, so to make sure he called upon his knowledge and asked The Devil for an answer. The answer came with a promise, that if the child or the mother were hurt through his revenge or anger, then he would forfeit his own life and his soul would be the property of the Devil.

Of course the stablehand escaped and tried to contact the girl, knowing the child was his. In a fit of rage the Lord beat him to death and buried his body in the grounds under an oak tree. 

On finding her lover dead, the girl drank poison after drowning the babe. The Devil rejoiced at the product of his schemes, collected the soul of the Lord and forced him to dance on glass for eternity, never knowing rest, in pain and ecstasy.

I explained the moral of the story, Jane sat on her throne and looked deep into my soul. I told her I would die if she ever left me. I wept as she told me she would be at my side forever.

My name on her lips, I came hard in my robes of office, I was unable to contain my joy and ecstasy. I am unworthy of her trust and devotion.

**_August 13th 1794 -_ **

The Palace have given me free reign to put the renovation plans into action. At last I may mould the stone to suit my needs. Jane wished to be part and I was overjoyed to see her smile at me.

I sang out my heart to her yesterday, she sits with the common folk and watches me, I am on fire inside and I know now, that she is too. 

Maria tires me, she is the only drain on my heart and now I must act if I am to stand at Jane's side as foretold.

**_August 16th 1794 -_ **

Jane came to me freely last night after her beau wrote and cancelled their engagement, she sat at my side and cried such tears, over a man who is not worthy of her.

It angered me, Jane came after tending Maria in her pain and comforted me in mine. 

He is nothing, he will return to nothing.

**_August 25th 1974 -_ **

Maria has been carried to heaven. She is blessed and now serves you for as long as you wish it. I am envious, but will continue to serve in my mortal body till I am called to your side.

As I read her funeral service I felt Jane's eyes upon me, the stirring in my loins was so powerful I stuttered as the pallbearers laid Maria in the earth. 

Jane believes I am in Mourning Green for my Maria, my sister!

_ My sister! _

**_September 3rd 1794 -_ **

The Beau left last week. I counselled her not to write him back and she trusts me as a child would. Her unshakable faith is frightening in its strength.

She scares me with her innocence.

**_September 17th 1794 -_ **

I find he is residing in the stables at Wash Farm, this is only a day's ride. I have business at Hopton Hall, I shall make a detour.

**_September 25th 1794 -_ **

He rests under the earth at Knowles. I gave an excuse for my attire to Jane who nodded and took it from me as if she were being passed holy relics.

She told me blood and soil weren't easy stains to remove, but she would do her best.

Do I have enough?

I think so, I have missed her tenderness and without Maria, I may make as much noise as I wish.

==========

John sat back in the chair, took a swig of his now cold coffee and felt dizzy. Overwork, stressed about money and the last argument with his wife had caused the headache which now was taking over. 

A rub at his hand, he groaned, stood up abruptly and threw his rushed dinner into the sink.

Drunk.

Probably.

==========

**_October 13th 1794_ **

I am unable to concentrate in my offices. I find myself drifting into unpleasant dreams when I sit and listen to the choir. My hands are always cold, this country is not as warm as that of my birth, and I must confess I do miss the Lisbon sun on my skin.

I was overtaken by sleep, to my discredit I nodded whilst they sang the psalm _ 'Set though and ungodly man to be a ruler over him) and let Satan stand at his right hand' _

An unusual sensation under my left hand, the wood of the carving, on which I was resting suddenly felt wet, cold as if made of rotten linen, I opened my eyes and must have exclaimed, as the verger had turned to look at me most surprisedly. 

I felt disgusted, as it exuded a most unpleasant odor, one that I have come across before, as I gave the last rights to the Grimshaws. But the carving had not changed, it is still smooth, varnished oak. 

Am I going mad?

Jane had tears in her eyes.

She comforted me on my return from the Deanery, I allowed her to question me, it felt most unusual to have her ask me if I had the fever. Her concern for my well being is almost as strong as her devotion to her god.

I sent her away, and now the whispering voices are no longer in my head. 

**_They are all over the house!_ **

They follow me to my room as I retire after reading, my eyes are spoilt with study.

Do they know what I have done to serve you?

Am I truly damned?

============

John had unconsciously held the hand to his breast, the splinter needed to come out, he couldn't feel his fingertips.

Taking a sharp knife from the draw, he began to dig into his palm, now angry red and black. Damn the thing was deep, he moved till he was standing directly under the fluorescent strip light to take a closer look.

Dizzy from the alcohol, steadied himself against the sink, knocking the figurine flying. It skidded over the worktop, bounced off the wall and fell to the floor.

It smashed, the head knocked clean from the body. 

With a pang of guilt at damaging what could be a valuable historical relic, he sat lumpily in his chair and picked the pieces up, any attempt to put them back together would now need a conservator.

With a bleeding hand he put the pieces back in the chest, as he did so a small roll of paper fell out of the cavity within the body of the carving, he carefully retrieved and unrolled it.

In a very ill written and uncouth hand he read the following lines;

_ When I grew in the wood I was water'd with blood _

_ In the church I now stand _

_ Any who touch me if a bloody hand they bare I council _

_ To be ware _

_ If they be fetched away _

_ In a stormy night of February _

_ This I dreamt, January 1781 _

_ John Beeley _

The 1976 John Beeley sat slack jawed at the kitchen table, his head swimming.

==========

_ December 14th 1794 _

My friend Father Rodrigues came to visit me, he stays a few nights before he must return to the capital where he is to embark for China. I envy him his zeal, he has a calling not unlike my own and I am loath for him to leave me.

He says this is a very noisy house, the sounds of the maid and my valet always coming and going. He criticised Jane, how she is forever whispering in dark corners, leaving dirty foot prints on the floor. 

I was surprised, her work had always been exemplary, I asked him to show me the marks, and yes they were present. I called her to my study to answer before us, and she denied making the marks, pleaded that she always kept the doors closed against drafts and never spoke unless spoken to, whilst on duty.

Father Rodrigues, I find, did not believe her story about the marks. 

I do, and I have been uneasy in sleep since.

**_I MUST BE FIRM_ **

**_December 25th 1794_ **

My friend and I saw in the festive season in good cheer. 

The spirit in the city has lightened somewhat and despite the cold, he told me he is impressed at how well the Cathedral looks after the improvements. A new chancel is constructed and repairs to the altar completed to my satisfaction.

One incident though brought pain to me. The carving on my stall, the 'Friar of Orders Grey' was knocked from the arm of the throne. The workman was full of apologies, but I find its absence pleasing, I never felt owner of that chair till today.

It is being kept in my study, I have wrapped it carefully and shall not have it replaced.

**_December 31st 1794_ **

On the eve of the new year I sit in my study, and wonder if I am going mad. 

I look over my shoulder to seek those that follow me, petty things startle me, am I suffering from a nervous complaint?

Are all the souls I guided to heaven following me, why are they angry with me? I helped them ascend to their rightful place, I helped them and watched them die. 

_ Why do they scorn me, why do they hate me? _

I wept in frustration. I cannot sleep alone, the feeling of constant vigilance is preventing it. Jane has tried to help me, she came to me yesterday, poor ignorant girl.

She kissed me.

She kissed me as a child would kiss a parent.

I took her by the hand and led her to the couch on which I have taken her so many times before. My heart is hers, it always will be, her gentleness, her innocence is mine, belongs to me.

**_ONLY ME._ **

She held me and offered her friendship, offered much more than she realised, so readily did she sooth me.

I could not help myself, I took her, body and soul, I took all of her with no protest, no sleeping draft to aid me. I held strong, I held her to my breast and kissed her forehead. She smiled into my soul, the heat of her gaze better than any death at my hands, better than any grip of dead women's mouths on my manhood.

Better than death, better than my pledge to you. 

**_You have nothing of me now._ **

The couch was too small, we embraced upon the floor deep in each other's arms, her lips were so soft and yielding, her clothes too thin, too cold. She should be wrapped in fine furs and smooth linen. She kept me in her arms for what felt like hours. 

She took pity on me, she let me inside her, so calm, so enraptured, closed her eyes, wrapped her legs about me,  _ so warm,  _ **_so warm._ **

She is so beautiful in her ecstacy.

**_January 1st 1795_ **

Father Rodrigues has left me for London, and I am able to carry on as before.

Jane has been quiet today, no doubt annoyed over the criticism of her work, and afraid she may be punished or dismissed.

**_NEVER_ **

We did not mention the previous night, I find her strangely reticent to speak of it, a comment she did let drop puzzled me, that she was ashamed at taking advantage of me.

Oh praise be, taking advantage of  **_ME!_ **

I assured her this was not the case, and encouraged her to retain her place at my side. She chose the 109th, and as she said the words, I felt absolved from guilt.

She was so soft, such gentleness I never expected, my heart was full of her, the closeness, the sound of her breathing in my ear. The greasy taste in my mouth, she smelt of salt and wax, her hands were clean and held me tight between the folds of my lower robe.

As I screamed her name to your glory I had no fear of failure.

This feeling I must attribute to you My Lord, thank you for sending me a servant of such beauty and kindness, forgive my earlier outburst, I was overwhelmed.

She now sleeps, I must be firm, I must be firm; 

**_I MUST BE FIRM!_ **

For Jane.

**January 3rd 1795**

My trouble is, I confess it, increasing upon me. I had occasion to come downstairs to my study last night. I had inadvertently left my watch behind and I found it very difficult to leave my chamber. The hallway seemed to be filled with what I must only describe, as movement without sound, that is a rustling, a constant coming and going of figures. I retrieved my watch and as I re-entered the hall I heard a door close. 

Of course I made all efforts to discover the cause of the disturbance, but found non, and was left puzzled by the number of sooty fingermarks on the handles of the doors.

I will speak to Jane about this.

==========

John had closed his fist, trying to distract from the pain of the muscle spasm in his arm. The knife had been no use, only making the wound deeper. He hoped it would not be an A&E job, with half closed eyes, the blurred image of the carving on the throne came to him.

A woozy head, an upset stomach, green tainted fingers on his right hand, a swollen red left.

Wondering if he would be fit for work in the morning.

He stared as if transfixed by the writing before him, sweat beaded at his temples, reached for his glass, tried to fill it with a shaking hand from the tap, spilt more on the floor as he painfully swallowed.

He had to finish the diary.

It was his duty now.

==========

**_February 1st 1795_ **

I am much troubled in sleep, finding no cause for this I must attribute it to overwork, or anxiety. Jane takes care of me, she asks if I am well, she brings me drink and food when I call. She takes care of me as a wife would.

I am unable to take a wife, but would a wife do this all for me?

The hallways are dusty and dim, my eyes spoil in these dark nights and the only distraction I have is Jane who lay with me last night in my own bed.

I am calm, I will not let them take her from me, I held her so tight to my chest, to feel her heartbeat with mine, to bask in her warmth and loveliness.

I love her and I feel absolved. 

But I will not let it set me back from the road I have chosen. Jane will walk with me and we shall enter your presence and rejoice in your benevolence.

I sank my head onto her belly, warm and round and she laughed, tickled my ears and told me she loved me. How do I pay for this, how can I deserve such happiness?

I laughed with her, sank my face into her and laughed deep and long, with no one to overhear us now we are free to do as we please.

**_February 2nd 1795_ **

She will be my constant bedfellow, I awoke in her arms, basking in her sunlight as hot as the Lisbon sun. I serve you My Lord as I fill her with seed, she smiles and laughs as I brush her with my fingers, as the sand, rippling flesh, as her hair, silken robes. As her sex dripping nectar doth flow and I drink as a dying desert man would. 

I have never known such a thirst.

**_February 3rd 1795_ **

I have time to make an entry before I am called to serve Jane her pleasure.

I sang in the Cathedral today, I held both hands tight to the throne and sang out my fealty to you My Lord and Master.

She is with child.

She has given me the greatest gift and I will hold her close, shall sing her glory to you as she grows and blooms. 

**_February 5th, 1795_ **

I am enraged, Jane is gone, no sign of her can I find, no clue to where she has gone, what have I done?

_ What am I going to do? _

**_WHERE IS SHE?_ **

**_February 6th 1795_ **

I made show of organising the parish in search for her. Their reluctance interests me, I am to speak to the town elder in regard to this odd behaviour.

How dare she do this, she must think of the child inside her. We are in love, she is mine, body and soul. I feel bereft and I am ashamed that in my anger I pleasured alone. I felt her hand around me as they dragged the mud from the bottom of the fleam, the smell was so unpleasant yet it stirred me.

I stood behind the mill wheel and felt the water on my face and groin, cooling and soothing as her lips have been.

**_WHERE IS JANE, WHY HAS SHE GONE?_ **

**_February 7th 1795_ **

The pond in the square was dragged, the mill fleam and fleet were checked, the river sides scored for sign. 

Nothing.

Mr Jackson, the town elder, gave me some details of Jane Lee, before she came to serve my house. I find his story disheartening, but understandable. Anything different or beautiful in this place is treated with suspicion, derision and contempt. It is ignorant and I am sure my actions among this parish are now wholly justified.

They deserve to die, they deserve to be taken down by the fever, aided by myself to their graves. I will not allow their ignorant, base instincts to pollute my parish.

Where is she?

I miss her terribly, I fear your punishment. 

I fear the voices.

**_February 10th 1795_ **

It is no consolation to me that no body has been found. I made some small enquiries at Hopton in case she may have fled to her former beau's last known address.

I am yet to hear from the hall.

**_February 12th 1795_ **

I have heard from Hopton Hall, no sight or rumour of her has reached them. Maybe the correspondent in Bradgate, the one from the coast, may have heard from her?

The sooty fingerprints are all over my books, even on the pages, everything is defiled with dirt and festering smells follow me to prayer. My cathedral duties were taken on by my assistant and he has performed to the best of his abilities. I must sit on the throne and make myself understood that the city and its stupid, ignorant disgust at the girl and her families reputation is the work of the devil, that to judge others, you must first yourself be judged.

Ignorant apathetic ridiculous sheep, am I always to be surrounded by this excuse for humanity? 

They are nothing to me, nothing. 

**_February 13th 1795_ **

I wrote to her idiotic friend today. If she causes trouble I will be in no position to evade her.

What have I done?

The wind is howling around the house tonight, thanks to you My Lord it drowns out the voices, I will be able to sleep. 

I want her next to me, I want her entwined in my arms, her lips on mine. My anger is turned to deep anxiety, how could I have let her escape? Did she fool me into loving her?

Am I ever to see her again?

==========

John was panting for breath, his lust overcoming the desire for sleep.

His eyes sore from staring at the writing, once it was clear and easy to follow, even if the language was a little archaic. But as the month of January drew to its close and February opened the handwriting was hurried, slurred, the ink smudged. 

He found more words crossed out in anger, the page torn and black.

As the whiskey and the smell of mould from the letters did its work, John struggled to stay awake, his head nodded on his chest. 

Taking a gulp of cold coffee, pulled a disgusted expression as the fluid dribbled down his chin and onto the pages of the diary.

He turned the page.

==========

**_February 15th 1795_ **

The cold dark nights enclose me, I am lonely and no matter how hard I try I cannot stop the ringing of church bells in my ears. I shouted at the Verger, told him to stop them after 10pm this evening, I need rest, I cannot contain my desperation any longer.

My Lord and Master guide me?

Can I stop the pain in my hand, can I keep the strength to carry on serving you?

I am writing this at 3am, I was startled out of my sleep by a most melancholy cry, as of a bird, or fox. That cry I have heard before but this was the end of my rest for tonight. 

I gave my soul in your service, I gave my mind and my faith so I may rise to the position I felt my due.

Am I to be so treated?

Jane is gone, she is dead I know she is I feel it, I have had no word from her friend, I have no chance to travel there myself to enquire after her.

I shall call the Sortes and find out what is left to me.

**_February 16th 1795_ **

My world is crumbling, I am destitute of feeling, faith or remorse. 

I am numb to it all. 

I spent the day in futile arguments with the diocese, they will not lift a finger to help find Jane, just another lost soul.

The Sortes were damning

_ LUKE XXIIX, 3  _ \- May my accusers be clothed with disgrace and wrapped in shame as in a cloak.

_ JOHN IIX, 29  _ \- His descendants cut down, their names blotted out from the next generation. 

_ PETER XIIX, 12  _ \- The days are few; may another take his place of leadership.

She has my soul in her hands, I never gave it to you My Lord Satan, I have failed and I know that as I write this, your servant is standing behind the study door. 

I await your judgement.

==========

The time, John thought, was 1.36am, the numbers on the cooker clock were blurred, a rub at his eye brought searing pain, 

Crying he lifted himself from the table, tried to swallow and found it difficult to breath. 

His jaw felt stiff and taught, heart racing as his stomach rolled and tensed. The first sick day in years would be called in to his employer the next day, he may even have to ask his bitch of a wife to do it. 

He could hardly hold a glass to his lips.

==========

**_February 18th 1795_ **

She is come, she is here, I feel her presence and as I wrote those words she takes me in her mouth and begins to kiss me, her teeth graze flesh full of blood, she kneels, she begs me to forgive, to let go, to come and I cannot resist her entreaty.

But it is too late.

I have called in my favour, I know where she resides with my child in her womb.

And now I wait.

==========

John never saw his sick day.

His wife returned home that morning after her night shift cleaning, found him asleep, head on the book, smelling of cheap whiskey and vomit.

Again.

He'd brought home another old useless relic, turning her nose up she smelt the mould, a distinct odour of almonds and left the room in disgust

Taking off her uniform, had a shower and went to bed, her daughter was already fast asleep, school bag hanging behind the door.

She slept till the sound of her daughter's screams tore the flat apart.

==========

FIVE WEEKS LATER

The coroner declared death by misadventure, the symptoms of Tetanus from the injury to the left hand and unusually large amounts of arsenic in the blood and vital organs, found to be present in the paper of the letters and diary became evident during the post mortem. The court was adjourned till more information about the metal chest and its contents could be ascertained.

It was given to the local museum, and its curator, Professor Margaret James began her investigation.

The names were known.

She found that Archdeacon Garupe's death had been reported in the Gentleman's magazine of the day, 

_ "March 12th 1795, At his residence in the Cathedral of Wraxall, the Venerable Francisco Garupe, DD, aged 35, Archdeacon of Wraxall, and Rector of Worth Valley and Hartington Nether Quarter met his quietus.  _

_ He was of ------ College Lisbon, and where, by talent and assiduity, he commanded the esteem of his seniors; when, at the usual time, he took his first degree. Academical honours were soon procured for him within a short time a fellowship of his college. In the year 1779 he received holy orders, travelled extensively around the continent, and was known as a pestilent innovator, among the residents of Curazin, Romania. He left to pursue his calling and soon found his way to England, where he was shortly afterward presented to the perpetual Curacy of Hartington, his speedy preferments, form an eloquent testimony to the respect in which he was held. He succeeded to the Archdeaconry upon the sudden decease of Archdeacon Elton Pulgrave in 1794.  _

_ But such are the works of providence, his work had just begun, when the peace of his parish was disturbed, nay, shattered, by a tragedy as appaling as it was unexpected. He was found, dead at the bottom of the archdeaconry stairs. The vertebrayal column was fractured in more than one place, which may have been the result of a fall, the body wore no shoes, its feet slashed and bloodied as if he had run over sharp broken glass. _

_ No broken pane was to be found in the residence, the suspicions of the parish were that some animal was responsible for the hideous injuries, also inflicted upon the face. His fingers broken and covered in a black substance identified as soot, his hair pulled out at the roots. _

_ The author or authors of this terrible outrage are alike buried in mystery, and the most active conjecture has hitherto failed to suggest a solution of the melancholy problem afforded by this appalling occurrence" _

The name of Jane Lee was much more difficult to find, she had resided at the village of Burnstow before arriving in Wraxall, a scandal had driven her from her home, a baby born out of wedlock, suspicions of the father poisoning himself in despair after she took the baby boy and drowned it in the mill fleam.

This murder was covered up by her family name of Beeley, who were known in the parish as excellent carvers in wood and stone, a large Rood Screen and parts of the chancel of Wraxall Cathedral were done by her father, John Beeley, before his death of Scarlet Fever in 1784. He was known to have made the Episcopal Throne, of which there is no surviving record, being damaged extensively in the Blitz of 1940.

Jane Lee (nee Beeley) disappeared from Wraxall in 1795, there were records of her being seen in the town of Bradgate some weeks later. 

The records show a birth and christening of one Francis Lee, born of Jane Lee, registered in that parish some 8 months later. 

No father was declared.

===========

The chest and its contents were preserved, and now reside in museum storage. It was thought best by the curator not to exhibit the carving, it gave her nightmares for some weeks after holding it. She dreaded to think what the children would make of such a hideous, yet cleverly carved sculpture of The Devil.

It now collects dust in a box, on a shelf, next to many fine examples of Cathedral glass, recovered during the demolition of the Archdeaconry in 1976, the explanation for how it became buried under the floor is still unresolved.

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first Horror story, its been fun to write, I hope it has been fun to read.
> 
> Please swing on by tumblr - I am known as @Morby
> 
> Let me know what you think, did you guess what Jane had done, did you read between the lines and realise what Dr Garupe was up to all along and who Maria actually was?????
> 
> I hope so, I tried not to give you an easy time, a little dash of mystery, a little thought and puzzlement and the reader is (hopefully) entertained.
> 
> "And the Devil claims his soul"  
> FAUST

**Author's Note:**

> A story which my very good friend @in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather encouraged me to write.
> 
> I thank her for her support and giving me the push to write this for Halloween. 
> 
> Its been an interesting story to write, I find that writing nasty things happening to nasty people very rewarding and freeing. Its most peculiar, having control over these characters and making one in particular, incredibly nasty, underhand, devious and vulnerable.
> 
> I have seen the film "Silence" once - I do not wish to see it again, its horrific, but I remembered enough to pull one character out of the hell and into my story. I do hope you are enjoying this.
> 
> It was originally to be short, but as I found myself thinking up new devious behaviour, it grew and grew till I have had to separate into three chapters.


End file.
